Nothing You Can Do
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: The considerably less angsty sequel to Long Slow Burn. Garret loses one problem to gain another...
1. Chapter 1

A/N-This is CONSIDERABLY less angstier than Long Slow Burn. Almost fluff compared. It definitly helps if you read Long Slow Burn first...but if you don't want to wade through 37 chapters of angst, here's the condensed version. Abby comes back, dies. Garret starts drinking. And drinking. And drinking. And tries to kill himself, but fails. Gets sent to remote location, Jordan shows up, tries again, fails again, stays sober for about a month, before Abby's boyfriend winds killing himself, which drives Garret back into the bottle and he shoots himself but misses and Jordan runs up the stairs to find him, well, alive but bleeding all over the place, stitches him up and he realises that maybe life isn't THAT horrible. And that's where this one picks up. I don't own them either, they belong to Tim Kring and NBC and Tailwind, not to me.

* * *

_Comes a nightmare you can always stay awake  
Comes depression you can get a better break  
Comes love, there ain't nothing you can do about love_

* * *

It had been a long day. They hadn't moved from the couch. She lay there curled close to him being there for him, with him. They just at there, unmoving, in silence. Day had broken, sunlight was streaming through the window. He hung onto her, one arm wrapped tightly around her, clinging onto her for dear life. 

He sat there with her in a kinda stunned silence, he didn't know what to think, what to feel. He couldn't think about anything. He just had her there with him. He was numb, unfeeling. He didn't have anything to think about. He was just blank.

Her stomach gave a low growl. "Breakfast?" He asked her and she nodded. "I don't have much around to eat though-" He had spent the past two weeks living off of scotch, he hadn't gone grocery shopping at all.

"I'll go grab some while you clean up. No offense Gar, but you look like shit." She got up, extending her hand to him to help him off the couch. "Just remember to keep those stitches dry." He rolled his eyes, he knew the drill. He reached up to the back of his head, rubbing the fine line of stitches, wincing as he did.

He made his way to the bathroom, shocked at the amount of dried blood that covered the back of his neck and had soaked into his shirt. He pulled the shirt over his head, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He had to admit that he didn't look the best. His eyes were sunken with bags underneath them, he was gaunt and far too skinny to be healthy, paler than he had ever been, and there was two weeks worth of a beard growing on his face. He stripped the rest of the way down as he started the water, getting it to a comfortably hot temperature before stepping in. He let the warm water cascade over his body, washing the blood off of his neck while being careful not to get the stitches wet, blindly following her instructions.

He stood there a long time, just thinking as the hot spray washed over him. Thinking about everything and nothing as the last of the pink tinged water washed down the drain. His blood. He had come within an inch, literally, of death. If he hadn't flinched, he wouldn't be here right now.

He looked again at his reflection in the mirror, wiping away a spot in the fog to stare at himself as he easily toweled off, wrapping the damp towel around his waist. He reached for the razor before he stroked the growing beard. It really didn't look that bad, it looked kind of good, really. And it wasn't that uneven. It would have to be trimmed even in a few days, but he could put that off, it wasn't really necessary now.

The smell of bacon and eggs drifted into his bedroom as he got dressed. He'd barely eaten at all in the past two weeks and his stomach suddenly reminded him of that fact. He threw on the first thing he could find, a pair of loose shorts and a shirt, he didn't really care, it was the end of July.

He grabbed a piece of toast as it popped out of the toaster earning him a glare. "That was mine." She said, giving the bacon a small stir to stop it from sticking and burning.

"Too bad." He said as he buttered it, pouring himself a cup of coffee and retreating back to the table, crunching into it. She grinned at him.

"So you have your appetite back?" He nodded. At least for now it was back. "You're going to get better Garret, for real this time." He shrugged and took a long gulp of coffee, diving into the plate of bacon and eggs that she had just placed in front of him. "You are going to get better." He didn't answer for a long minute, eating, before he looked up at her.

"I'm an old man Jordan, I can't promise you anything. I'm set in my ways." She sat down across from him.

"Garret, that doesn't mean anything." They lapsed into silence and he looked around the apartment. There were still empty bottles strewn about the couch, and there was a dark red stain on the back of his couch. He spied the overnight bag in a corner and quirked his eyebrow. "What? That? You have a pull out couch. I'm not leaving you alone Garret, not until you're back on your own two feet." He wanted to glare at her, but he couldn't. He wanted to be mad, but he couldn't.

"It's not comfortable." He said, trying to come up with something to drive her away.

"Garret, I spent the past two weeks sleeping in my car in the garage beneath this place, I know uncomfortable." He stared down at his plate. She had sacrificed even sleep for him. He wanted to be mad at her for forcing her way into his life, but he couldn't be, more than anything, he just wanted to stop the pain, stop the hurt, feel better.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N-See? Fluff! Fluffy! Oooh! bunny! Ok, I've just downed 16 oz of sugar in the form of a WaWa slurpee. It's also 1130 at night and I still haven't seen the new ep. Don't expect coherant author's notes, I'm busy writing something even fluffier, and plotting my NaNo...oh, right, about that, don't expect anything new over the month of november, I'm busy writing NaNo, not fanfic...And Jinubean-this is MORE than an alternate ending. This is alternate ending that became sequel. I still wanted Garret to die. I almost ended this with him getting hit by a bus before I remembered that this is Crossing Jordan, not Final Destination...

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"You know leaving the house might do you some good." She said, looking at him. He looked at the door.

"Sitting here's comfortable." He complained and she shook her head.

"Do I have to drag you out? Just a walk or something, get some fresh air. It's a gorgeous spring day." He shrugged. "Get up and get your lazy ass out of here." She said, opening the door and holding it open. He frowned and rolled his eyes at her before grudgingly getting up and heading out the door.

"Happy?" He asked as they headed down the stairs. She was right, it was a beautiful spring day. Not yet hot enough to be annoying, but just warm enough to not require a jacket. The two of them walked down the familiar busy streets in companionable silence, taking in the spring air.

They found themselves strolling down to Kenmore Square, stopping by one of the many street vendors for lunch, sitting on a bench and watching the passers by as they ate. "See? This isn't so bad." She said and he shrugged. "You know, you're worse than Lewis Jefferies. At least Lewis, once he was outside, wasn't so bad." He smiled, somewhat.

"Better?" She laughed.

"I suppose." She replied, tossing the end of her hot dog roll to the pigeons.

"Hey, I'm out of the house, per your forcing me out, but I'm out. I'm dressed, out here, and actually cracked a smile." He smiled again. "See, smiling." She laughed again.

"Very good, very good. You're improving." He shrugged. "How are you doing?" She asked and he shrugged again.

"My head hurts like hell." He winced as he went to rub it and she merely rolled her eyes.

"What, you expected it to feel better than ever? Maybe that taught you a lesson." He stared down at the ground. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having. He wanted to forget about it, move on. He didn't want her to be bringing it up, he didn't want anyone to bring it up. It would be his little secret, no one else would know about it aside from her, he could write off the scar as being a number of things.

But he didn't want to be having this conversation, especially not here, in public. If he was going to say anything about what he had done it would be in private, not in public, where the world would know what he did. He didn't do it for the attention, he wasn't some angsty goth teenager, he had just wanted out. And if she truly wanted to see him better, she would drop talking about it.

He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it She wanted him to move on and he was going to. He was going to move on and act like it never even happened. Just get right back into life. The only thing he could do if she wanted to see him get better, to move on. She wanted him to stop being what he had become, go back to what he had been, and the only way to do that was to forget about it.

Forget about the past few months and his slow decline. Forget about the bottles and bottles of scotch. Forget about his car, the scalpel, the gun. Forget about the two bodies on steel gurneys laying there, cold, unfeeling, staring at the ceiling. Forget about the gorgeous oak coffin laying in the ground, the picture that he hadn't had the heart to look at and the acceptance letter that still sat in the back corner of his junk drawer, put out of sight.

"You know, I still need to get a new car." He said as he thought about it. Public transportation worked well enough to get him where he needed to go, but there was that certain stigma that was attached to a car, the feeling of freedom that it gave him, that if nothing else, he could get into it and drive far, far away, if he couldn't stand it anymore he could do something that she did and run off in the night.

"You want to go look for one?" He shrugged.

"Maybe." He replied. He tried to even get an idea of what he wanted. A convertible, that would be nice. Small, sporty, like his old Aston Martin. Maybe even another Aston Martin. He had loved that car, the new Vanquish was a gorgeous car. It wasn't really like he had that many constraints, he'd spent more money than he had in most of his life over the past few months, almost all of it on booze, and he still had more than he knew what to do with.

He didn't spend much of it, originally he had been saving it for Abby, first for college and then so that she'd have it for when she reached later on in life. But now he didn't have her to spend it on and he still wasn't spending much of it. He had used a good bit to buy his condo, but he had already paid it off and still had plenty. He wasn't fond of spending money left and right-he spent enough to keep himself well, nothing more and nothing less. He found no reason to spend money. He kept it, in case of something going horribly wrong. Even if he hadn't gotten his job back he wouldn't have needed to work, he had enough to last him comfortably.

"C'mon, it'll get your mind off of other things." She was already getting up and walking away, leaving him to follow, trying to think if he had any idea of what exactly he wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Right, so I get into a bit of a thing for Garret's car. I'm not really all that fond of the Vanquish, I'm a classic DB series fan, so therefore Garret does not get an Aston Martin. Anyone know what Garret's car from season 1 was? I swear it's a DB6, but a lot of people think otherwise...

* * *

He looked over at her, sitting in the passenger seat. "So. How have things been in my absence?" She shrugged.

"We've kinda put off everything that we could, we were spending too much of our time worrying about you." He frowned. That wasn't the response he wanted to hear. The only one that he'd really have to worry about was Lily. Nigel and Bug at least had the common sense not to push the issue and bring it up. Lily would no doubt want him to talk about it.

And he didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to forget about it and act like it never happened, was just a two week vacation, that the scar on the back of his head wasn't from a near hit bullet wound but from falling and hitting his head or something along those lines. He could trust Jordan to collaborate on any story that he came up with, but he didn't want to have to come up with a story. He just wanted to forget about it.

"So in other words there is a stack of paperwork as tall as I am and a pile up of bodies that need to be cut up for their insurance companies." She grinned and shrugged.

"Yeah, sums it up pretty well." She said as he pulled to a stop in the parking garage. He was liking the way his new car was handling. He had originally put up a bit of a fight over the car-she had fought back. They had spent the past two days looking at pretty much every single car dealership in the greater Boston area and every time she kept dragging him back into a Jag.

She kept dragging him back into the car he currently was getting out of. He had to admit it was a nice car. His entire argument had been that he didn't trust Ford, especially not with the prestigious British car. But she kept making him test drive it every time they came across it and he had to admit, the car did handle well.

And it looked good. Flashier than his SUV, but on par with his old Aston Martin. It didn't quite have the same vintage appeal as the DB6, but there was something to be said about the XK that he did enjoy. The next argument had been her trying to convince him to get it in Pacific Blue, which made the car look far too feminine for his taste. He didn't care if she was the one that was with him buying the car, it was his car, he wanted something strong looking.

He hit the up button on the elevator as she got in next to him. "Ready for this?" She asked as they ground to a halt on the ninth floor and he nodded. She stepped out first, and he trailed behind, walking straight to his office, grimacing at the mound of paperwork that she appeared with a minute later. "These all are awaiting your signature chief." She said as she let them go on top of his desk with a resounding smack.

"Great." he said, flipping open the first one. "Now leave me alone to do paperwork." He said, reaching back for a record and sliding it on the Victrola, dropping the needle down and leaning back in his chair.

She grinned and walked out back to her own office. This was the one aspect of his job he didn't miss, not when Slokum had come in, not when he had spent the past two weeks at home. But then again, there wasn't much he was thinking about for the past two weeks, he had only been focused on the pain.

He could feel Jordan's eyes on him every now and then though. Looking up every few minutes to check on him, see that he was still working. It was irritating at best, but he was growing used to ignoring it, forgetting about it, acting as if she wasn't there, wasn't constantly making sure he was alright.

He was dreading the moment when Lily walked in. She looked so relieved to see him there and drew him into the biggest hug she could, pulling him tight enough that he swore he was starting to feel his ribs crack. "Garret, you're alright." She had tears in her eyes.

"Yeah, fine. Just took two weeks of something in between vacation and sick leave."

She smiled at him. "How are you doing?" She asked and he shrugged.

"Aside from being bogged down in paperwork, good." She grinned at him.

"So you're doing alright then?" He nodded.

"Fine." So far so good, she wasn't forcing him to talk about it.

"You know I'm here for you right?" He nodded.

"Of course." He knew she was there for him, but he wouldn't use her, he didn't want to bog her down with his problem. It was bad enough that he was weighing down on Jordan. He hadn't asked her for her help, she had just forced it upon him in true Jordan style. He looked over to where she was and made eye contact. He was grateful to her though, she had saved him, he had flinched because he had been thinking of her, she was the last thing he had thought of before he pulled the trigger.

She was the last one left that he had. Maggie had long since been gone, and now he didn't have Abby. Jordan was the last one that he had left, and he loved her for that. She was his best friend, the only one to know his secret. He didn't want her to know that, it was something she didn't need to carry around, but she had chosen to do so willingly. And he had to care about her, not renege on his vow to get better solely for her.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N-Jules-WOODY? We don't need no stinking Woody, the boy's an idiot. And a grouch this season too. Screw David Cromwell, they need to get JOC to play Scrooge this year for Christmas Carol, he already does such a good job of it playing Woody. I merely have to warn you to brace yourselves. This time not for unbearable angst but for sappy fluff. Warm up your voices to constantly go "awwwwwwwe!"

* * *

She curled up against him, her head on his chest as they sat there watching whatever bad movie was on TV. She felt so warm, so comforting against him, and he had to admit, it felt good. He needed a warm body to curl up against on long cold nights. He really needed to start dating again, at least a little bit, not even anything serious, just something light, someone to talk to, someone to help warm his bed.

But all thoughts of that would have to wait. She had all but taken over his living room, the couch fully pulled out along one wall and a mess of her personal belongings surrounding it. She had sworn she wasn't going to leave him alone until he was better and so far she was being true to her word.

Although it was times like this when he dared to look around his apartment that he began to really regret one thing- and that was not letting her have any closet space. He had claimed that he knew better, that you give a woman closet space and their closet space grows and grows and takes over everyone's.

But at the moment, she was using the floor and her suitcase. And he had to frown at the mess that was Hurricane Jordan. He looked down at her, curled up in a sweatshirt and pajama pants and he couldn't help but not care about everything that she had done to his house. She looked so-he didn't quite know how to describe it. Not as brave as she put on in times like this, it was times like this that proved that she was human, that she could feel and be afraid, and love, and hate just like anyone else.

She was proving that she wasn't a heartless bitch, that she did care about things as she curled up, the two of them cuddling close on the love seat. He had his arm wrapped comfortably around her, holding her close, not wanting her to move. There was something about it, just sitting there in silence, pulled close that made him love it, love the moment, even for a brief bit, love life even for a little bit.

For the first time in almost a year, he wasn't minding getting up in the morning, wasn't minding life. And he had to attribute that change to her. He had turned his life around solely because of her-she had come in and hugged him close letting her tears soak into his shirt reminding him that he meant so much to so many people. She had sworn that she wouldn't give up on him and she wasn't going to.

She was here with him, for him, curled against him, reminding him of all the good in the world. He bent down and kissed the top of her head, and she smiled, moving even closer to him. She had given up her own life to watch him, keep him from doing more of what had nearly pushed him over the edge, here to save him from himself, sleeping on a pull out couch in his living room, not caring about anything in her own life.

Although he hadn't seen her with anything that really resembled a social life. Woody had left her high and dry and she hadn't seen anyone since. At least no one that he knew of. She might have been seeing someone and he had been so wrapped up in his own problems that he was completely oblivious to it. But as far as he knew, the last one she had dated was Woody. And as far as he knew, they still weren't speaking to each other outside of where it was dictated by the two of them at work.

He really couldn't fault the boy for giving up though, not without being a hypocrite. But the difference was that the boy had given up on a relationship. He had given up on life. But the boy had barely even tried. He knew Jordan was someone who required work just to be able to deal with her on a regular basis, but Woody hadn't wanted to invest even that. At least not without getting what he wanted.

The boy had wanted to change her into what Woody wanted, Woody wanted someone to compliment him in every way shape and form The detective wanted a Jordan who would forget about her past problems and focus on the future, a Jordan who while she was still herself was less willing to act and then think, one who wouldn't put herself in danger.

But he knew that Jordan would never do that, never change like that. She was who she was. He knew she had her past and her problems, and he didn't care. He didn't try to make her forget them, he didn't want her to forget them, they made her who she was, so long as she could cope with them, turn them into positive things. She had done that, she had put her mother behind her, enough to forget about it every now and then, at least.

He looked down at her and found she had fallen asleep against him and he smiled, a genuine smile. There were times he wanted to smack that boy upside the head and tell Woody that he was missing out on something wonderful, to put aside stupid selfish pride and take the girl because it was obvious that Jordan cared.

He frowned as he thought of that. She still never reacted well when she and Woody had to work together. He usually was the one to be the liaison between her and Woody, choosing to step in the way to prevent any pain on either side. But mostly on Jordan's. He didn't like seeing her hurting. And that's all she did when she was near Woody, hurt.

He got up, picking her up, surprised at how light she was. He set her down gently on the bed, covering her up, smiling. She may not be bearable at times, but he didn't see how the detective could willingly give her up, not when it was so obvious that she cared too.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N-See? Jordan doesn't need Woody, Jordan has Garret. Garret loves her. And well, c'mon folks, I'm a Garret/Jordan shipper-you honestly think I'm going to write something that involves the two of them and them not getting together? It's a classic Hurt/Comfort fic. Long Slow Burn was the hurt part, this is the comfort part...which means lots and lots of fluffy sap...

* * *

The crime scene was fairly bland and boring compared to some he had worked. Both a blessing and a curse. Some gangbanger who crossed the wrong man. Easy case, in and out, pull the bullet out, find out what if any substances the victim was using, and pass it on to the cops. It was nice, he didn't have to invest all of his time and energy, but it was bad for that exact same reason. 

"Young male, id unknown-" Jordan began as he started marking off the required preliminary paperwork, writing down everything that Jordan recited back to him. He had to fight back a groan when he saw who appeared with an irate look. Woody. The boy wonder was there with some attractive arm piece and the boy looked pissed.

"Right, please say that this is an easy case, I don't like being interrupted from dinner-" He was at her side as she looked up. He saw the way she squared her shoulders, attempting to portray confidence and hide the pain he knew she felt. He was right there for her, giving her his support.

"At the moment it looks like just another gang death. Hope it's worth interrupting your diner, _detective._" If Woody felt anything at all at her dig, he didn't show it. He really wasn't fond of the new detective-ever since the shooting the boy had changed, no longer light and cheery and naïve, now there was a hard, almost cold man in place of what had been a fun and free spirited one.

"Right, well hurry up." He fought the urge to glare at the detective who had gone back to the arm candy he had brought, apologizing profusely. He made a point of working as slowly as he could, ensuring that he was annoying Woody. He could feel the boy's impatient eyes on him and he didn't care.

The boy had been foolish and a bastard to Jordan. Making the boy and his date wait was the least of what he could do to try and ruin the boy's life. Or at least ruin it enough for the boy to see what an idiot he was and stop hurting Jordan. Woody didn't deserve her, the boy wasn't good enough for her, he couldn't think of anyone who was, but he would settle for anyone who made her happy.

Woody had been that one, Woody made her happy, but the boy had changed, made her hurt. And he didn't want to see her hurt, ever. She had turned back to work, purposely ignoring Woody and the other woman. He didn't blame her. "You OK?" He asked in a quiet tone as they both crouched over the body and she nodded.

"Yeah." Her tone said she wasn't, but she wasn't going to let this get under her skin, he knew her too well.

"Thank you for your findings, _doctor_." Woody got back at her earlier dig at him as he skimmed the notes she had, copying down the key points.

"Have a nice evening, Woody." She said as she climbed into the van next to him. He looked over at her as soon as they had pulled away.

"He still gets under your skin?" He asked her sympathetically and she nodded.

"Every time I think I'm over him, something happens and I realize that I'm not. And seeing him with something like that-a blond bimbo that'd only have two brain cells if she was pregnant-what do men see in those types anyway?" He shrugged. He had been married to one and he struggled to find that same answer.

"It takes time Jordan, you'll get over him, eventually." She shrugged.

"I know, it's just taking longer than I want it to." He grinned at her.

"He's not worth the tears though, if he doesn't want you, that's his own damn fault." A small smile crossed her face.

"I screwed up our relationship, I kept running, I loved him and still pushed him away, I don't blame him for getting sick of the way we ran circles around each other. I didn't do anything, hell, we barely even kissed-and he kept following me around, I don't blame him for finally having enough." They pulled to a halt in front of the morgue.

"Jordan, you didn't do anything-"

"That's the problem, that I didn't do anything." He put his arm around her pulling her close. He was surprised at his desire to tear the boy limb from limb for making her second guess herself like this, for making her hurt.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N-C'mon, you knew I had to bring in something that vaugely resmebled angst. So I lied. It's not ALL fluffy and light. It gets kinda sorta angsty for the middle and then gets really light and fluffy at the end. Fluffy like a quiche. And speaking of fluffy-Fluffy, do you really think that Jordan's NOT going to get over Woody? I mean think of who's writing this...

* * *

"Daddy!" She sounded so small, so weak and so helpless. He looked around for the source of the voice and found her standing in the corner reaching out for her. "Daddy, why? Why did you forget about me, you've forgotten about me, I'm not part of you anymore-" He wanted to reach out for her and took a few tentative steps towards her. "You've forgotten about me already? It hasn't even been a year-" He had reached her. 

"Abby, I love you, you'll always be a part of me-" She laughed, high pitched and far to bitter for the little girl in front of him.

"Will I? You've forgotten me daddy-forgotten about what I was, what you did to me." He shook his head.

"I haven't forgotten Abby-there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about how foolish I was-" She laughed that same bitter laugh.

"You never realize how foolish you are until it slaps you in the face daddy. You never know what you have until it's gone and now I'm gone daddy. You never got the chance to really love me."

"Abby, please, I wish I could do things over, do them right."

"You can't daddy, you already screwed up. Daddy, you screwed up and I'm dead now because you failed as a parent." He reached out for her, calling her name, chasing after her.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and found himself waking up in his own bed, with her sitting next to him. "Relax." Her voice was calm and soothing. "It was only a dream, only a bad dream." He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that it was just a dream. Just a horrible dream. "Better?" She asked once his breathing slowed to normal. He nodded. She stared getting up and he didn't let go.

"Stay, please." He knew he was sounding pleading and afraid, but he didn't care. She looked at him before turning down the covers and sliding in next to him. "Thank you." He whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She was a teddy bear to him, something to comfort him.

He was amazed at the easy way that she fit against his body though. She just seemed to nestle into every single curve. Lock and key. He had to smile slightly, she felt just so natural against him, comforting, him soothing him. But he couldn't help but notice the easy way that she fit, and wondered about the possibility of more of this.

He cleared that thought from his head. She was his best friend, she still wasn't past Woody, he shouldn't be thinking those things about her, she was the one who was comforting him, chasing away the nightmares, he didn't want to screw things up between them, didn't want to start pushing for more, start even thinking about more. He wanted to get better with her help.

She was his comforter, his protector. She had fallen asleep, pulled tightly against him and he looked down at her, before closing his own eyes. She could chase away the nightmares, show him that life was still worth living, that whatever the nightmares said, she could pull him back from the edge.

She wasn't worth the romantic thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Chapters like this make you want to slap the man, don't they? I mean, c'mon, just admit it already Gar...but he's not going to. I enjoy torturing him in various ways. The Garret in my head is afraid of me, he's afraid of dying, having to pine over unrequited love, drinking too much, being mugged, being murdered and being beaten with whips and chains (ok, so he doesn't mind that one THAT much). He comes out in full chainmail and has various antidotes on hand so that he's prepared for whatever I try to do him. You guys need to stop reviewing so much...I'm going to run out of things to post!

* * *

He looked out the window of his office into the hall. She was standing there, talking to the boy, laughing amicably. They seemed to be getting along better, at least a bit. She didn't have that pained look when talking the detective anymore-she was more relaxed, more natural, either he was working his way back into her life or she accepted that he was gone. 

He hoped it was that latter. The boy didn't deserve her, she deserved someone who would love her unconditionally without ever hurting her. The boy wasn't that man, the boy would never be good enough for her, no matter how good he got, he'd still be the poor farm boy detective that broke her heart.

He felt his eyes narrow at that thought. She was there, talking, bantering even, with Woody, acting as if it was all OK. And she was either thinking that he'd crawl back to her, or she had gotten over him. Or it could be all an act and ten minutes from now she'd be in her office wiping the tears away.

And he would rip the boy limb from limb for that, for hurting her. The boy didn't deserve her, he was completely wrong for her. She needed a man who would love her and not want to change her, and who would never even think of leaving her. Too many people had already left her; she didn't need anyone else to.

He blinked twice as he realized what he had just thought. He had thought the boy undeserving. As if he was jealous of Woody. He shook the thought from his head. It was Jordan, he didn't want Jordan, he wanted what was best for Jordan. He couldn't afford to get wrapped up in that kind of a relationship.

He wasn't going to even think about wanting her in a different sort of way. It was just his being her best friend; he was looking out for her. Woody had already broken her heart; she didn't need him to do the same thing again. He was just looking out for her, nothing else, he didn't want her, he didn't have an ulterior motive when it came to her.

He chased the thought out of his head. It came from too many months without another warm body in his bed and the fact that she had done so much for him already. It was almost like Stockholm syndrome, she was holding him hostage to make sure he didn't do anything foolish.

It wasn't anything serious. It was just that, nothing else, no real lust behind it. Only the lust of having an empty bed for far too long. He wasn't falling for her, she was his best friend, he loved her in a very different way. He didn't love her in that way, he loved her in a purely platonic way, she was the one that he leaned on, not the one that he wanted to drag to bed with him.

He watched as she headed back to her office. She looked considerably worse than she was five minutes ago now that the detective was gone, but she wasn't crying, she just looked-lost. He considered going in there and talking to her, but decided to wait, at least long enough for her to start to make sense of things herself.

He watched her though as she sat behind her desk, staring off into space. He couldn't stand it anymore and got up and walked across the hall. "Hey." He said as he collapsed on her couch.

"Hey." She said, and he could hear her voice, thick with tears she was fighting back.

"You alright?" She shrugged.

"Yeah." She didn't even try to hide the fact that she was lying about it, and he patted the spot on the couch next to him. She got up and sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder curling up against him. He felt one wet tear fall into his shirt and pulled her close.

"He doesn't deserve you; he doesn't deserve you crying over him." She looked up at him.

"I can't get over him no matter how hard I try." He looked down at her.

"You'll get through it." She smiled faintly. "Hey, least I can do is repay a favor. I'm here for you, you'll get over him, it just takes time." She felt so comfortable against him, as if that's where she belonged and he frowned again at that feeling.

He needed to go out and find someone, anyone, and get laid, he needed to get rid of these thoughts running through his mind. He couldn't afford to screw up his relationship with Jordan. Their relationship was the only thing that he had left, if he lost that, he would loose it all. If he lost her, he would be gone. She was the last thing propping him up, if she left him, he didn't even think he'd have it in him to off himself, he would just deflate. He needed her, and he wasn't going to screw things over between them.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Woody is an idiot. A naive little idiot. But we all already knew that, right? I mean, you'd have to be an idiot to do what Woody does here. But like I said, Woody was going to wind up happy. Sorta. Garret's wise in witholding his advice. I wouldn't want to give Woody advice either after what Woody's done to her...And Fluffy, I think you just inspired me for a drabble...Right, I really should break my own rule of "two reviews and I post unless it was a cliffhanger and want to keep a ton of people waiting..." because you guys keep reviewing so much...

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The invitation sat on the counter, and he stared down at it, pulling the knot in his tie up to his neck. She stood there, staring first at it then up at him. "Don't go if it's going to hurt." He told her simply and she shook her head. 

"I'm over him, I need closure." He looked up at her with soft eyes and he grabbed the invitation.

"You sure?" He asked again and she nodded.

"Yeah." He had given her the one last chance, one last way to back out of this.

"We should get going then." She nodded, walking out in front of him. She looked absolutely gorgeous; she would steal the spotlight away from the bride. It wasn't that amazing of a dress, a plain black dress with a ruffle up one side that alternated layers of red, but when she walked out wearing it, he hadn't been able to speak for almost a full minute.

They found the church by the white limos in front of it, and slid inside, finding Lily, Bug and Nigel already in one pew. They were amazed to see just how many people had shown up, nearly all of them from the bride's side of the family. The one side of the church had an almost three to one ratio compared to who was there for the groom.

He looked over at her as they all rose for the bride to walk in and found her face to be set stoically. She wasn't going to show any emotion. "If you want to leave-" He whispered and she shook her head. She wasn't going to show any emotion. She had willed the emotion away. But he was there for her.

He gave her hand a small squeeze as they said their "I dos" and felt her hand respond by grasping his as tightly as she could, she was fighting so hard not to show anything. He could see the glimpse of it in her eye-the faint sign of tears, the look of utter pain, but at the same time the realization that she was over the boy, she was never going to have him again, dawing on her. There was a spark behind the hurt.

The boy had been an idiot to invite her. Just because they had become friends was no reason for the boy to invite her when she obviously still cared. But she was here anyway, watching the detective marry the same blonde bimbo he had been showing around the town, and he had to admit, the boy looked overjoyed.

Then again, he had married someone who bore a striking resemblance to the woman standing up at the altar. And his relationship had failed. He should have given Woody fair warning, but the boy didn't deserve it, not for hurting Jordan the way he had. Let the boy find out just what she would be like on his own.

The ceremony was simple and sweet and before they knew it they were at the reception. The smell of booze all around him was getting to him, getting under his skin. He looked over at her and she smiled, slightly. She would keep him on the right track; he could count on her to stop him from doing something stupid.

The sip of champagne that he had as Cal toasted the happy couple was almost more than he could take. There was that slight burn that felt so good going down. Jordan had been wise and whenever they had gone out they had gone to someplace that wasn't a bar, he hadn't been around this much booze in a long time. It wouldn't be that hard to just have one sip. One, that's all it would be. One scotch.

He felt her eyes on him and he looked over. "Don't think about it, think of anything else." She said, obviously understanding what was running through his mind. He smiled faintly as he watched Nigel whisk her away to the dance floor.

She moved with such an easy grace, she looked so good dancing the way she did. He didn't know when he had started noticing the way she moved, the way she talked, the little things about her, the cute way she'd blow a lock of hair out of her face whenever it would slip out.

He shook the thoughts from his head and down a long gulp of soda. It just wasn't the same. But he wouldn't drink, he wouldn't hurt her ever again, he couldn't.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Fluffy fluffy fluffy fluff. Fuzzy bunnies and candy fluffy. Cuddling on the couch fluffy. Yay for fluff! And yes I can update too fast. There's only three chapters left. And, well, you're getting nothing until the end of november because I have an original novel to worry about...Right now y'all should be hoping Bill Dung plays nice and I get 50k out of him in a week...

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He looked up at the calendar. A year. One whole year. She had been gone for a year; he had been on the downward spiral for a year. Almost a year, he was better now, he was fixed, he wasn't broken anymore. He'd been clean for two months now. Jordan had gotten him there, gotten him past the nightmares, gotten him through everything. 

But it had been a whole year. He poured himself a glass of coffee and raised it in a toast. If there was a time he needed a drink it was now. He wanted a drink. He needed something to take his mind off the fact that his baby was gone, had been gone for a whole year and that it was his fault.

He had just started to move on, just started to get better and here she was cropping up in his thoughts again, reminding him again about what he had done wrong in his life. But there weren't anymore nightmares, Jordan had chased them away. He downed the cup of coffee and poured another.

Where was Jordan? She had kept close to him all day, watching him, making sure that she was there in case he caved in. And he was ready to, he could feel it, the urge to go and down an entire bottle of scotch all to himself. Where was she to be there for him and tell him that that was the stupidest thing he could ever do?

He frowned at the realization that he needed her, that he needed her to help chase away the nightmares, that he was to the point where she was just so much a part of him that he couldn't live without her. The thought of a life without her scared him. The thought had crossed his mind once and it been enough to drive him as close to drinking as he'd come until today.

He leaned back in his chair, looking out the window of his office into the hall watching the hustle and bustle of people around him. He caught sight of her dark curls and smiled as she walked into his office. "Hey." She said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting on his couch.

"Hey." He replied, kicking his feet up.

"How are you doing?" He shrugged.

"I'm doing." He said and she grinned. It was the best he could do. "I can't believe it's been a year-" he could feel her sympathetic gaze on him. "I mean, it's all passed in such a rush-and I can't remember half of what happened." He smiled faintly. "That might be for the better though." She came over and perched on the arm of his chair.

"You're alright now. See, you've done it. You've survived today, you're better." He smiled up at her. She was right, he had done it. He had survived the day; so far he hadn't touched a single drop of anything resembling alcohol. No matter how much he wanted to.

"What say we get out of here?" He said, downing the last of his coffee and she got up, wrapping her arm around him as he did the same, pulling her close. She felt so right, so natural there against him, she just seemed to fit on the side of him, be perfectly molded into him.

He frowned at that thought, he didn't want to think that way about her, it meant risking their relationship. He wasn't going to push her away forever because he was too busy fantasizing over what could be. He had what he had, and he was happy with it, he wasn't going to push his luck and push her away forever, he couldn't live without her, he needed her too much.

She was the one that he leaned on to save him, to keep him from falling back down, from going over a cliff and sliding back into the deepest corners of his mind. She had rescued him and he needed her to keep him from doing that again, he needed her in his life, he couldn't screw things up between them.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N so it takes the closest turn to angst it takes here and in the next chapter. It also gets somewhat fluffy. Of course Jordan has to walk in at an inopportune moment...interrupting inopportune moments is the best. They're the best moments to interrupt. And Keridwen-you seem to be the only one who's picked up on that. Nanos do have a bad effect on fanfic though...shame. Ah well, I like the idea of using this when I get sick of my Nano. Although it's got such a meandering plot, I don't think I can get bored with it. When I start getting bored I can just have him start to rant about something. Although that's also a very good thing because it means that I can reach 50k really really fast.

* * *

He looked at the shimmer of light off of the small stones. It really was a gorgeous piece of jewelry. She would love it; at least he hoped she would. It was gorgeous, almost five karats, diamond and sapphire. He had the money to waste. It wasn't as if he was going to be spending all the money that he had stockpiled away for Abby anytime in the near future. He could afford to waste some and she deserved it. 

He flipped it over to look at the inscription on the back. It was sweet and he had to admit, just a little sappy, but he didn't care. Plain and simple. _Jordan, thank you. All my love, Garret._ Seven simple words etched into the back; seven simple words that said everything that he couldn't.

Seven simple words that proclaimed his love. Something that he would never do to her, he couldn't tell her he loved her. He needed her, depended on her; he couldn't bear the thought of telling her and watching her let him down easily. He couldn't stand the thought of a life without her, he wasn't going to screw that over, even though he had given up on the fact that he was hopelessly in love.

That was the first step though. There weren't many things he'd admit he was powerless over, and love was one of those few rare things. He was in love with her, he knew it, he had come to acknowledge that, somewhere over the past few months he had realized that she was the one that was constantly on his mind.

Every little touch left him wanting more, everything she did left him wanting more. But he chased those thoughts away, ignored them. And he tried to avoid her-not for any fault of hers, but because he didn't want to cross that line with her, and the longer he spent with her the greater the chance that he would do it, that he would come right out and screw over their relationship.

He'd get up the courage eventually, one day he would tell her. He could give her the bracelet for her birthday that would give him a full four months to work up the courage to tell her. Four months to come up with some decent way to tell her that she was the only one that he had and that he loved her.

But until then he was quite happy avoiding her where possible. There was still the couch pulled out along one wall of his living room and her stuff all over, but he spent almost as much time in his room as he did out there with her, simply so that she wouldn't see the effect she had on him. He didn't want her to see. It was something that had snuck up on him and he didn't like that feeling.

He didn't like the way that he suddenly woke up and realized that what he felt for her was more than he ever felt for Maggie. He didn't like the way that all of a sudden out of nowhere he realized that he was gone, hopelessly and pathetically gone. He had seen the symptoms of it sneak up on him and he kept trying to fight them, but the more he fought the more persistent she was in doing things that just made him want to love her.

He saw her dark hair appear around the corner as she headed towards his office and he quickly snapped the box shut and shoved it into a desk drawer, closing it as she opened the door. She stood there for a long minute giving him a weird look. "Hey." She said. There was something different about her tone. He didn't quite know what, but it was different.

"Hey." He replied, leaning back and relaxing.

"What's up?" She asked, collapsing into her familiar place on the couch.

"Nothing." He said and she gave him an inquisitive look.

"Nothing?" She asked and he nodded.

"Nothing." He repeated and he watched her eyes narrow.

"Garret, what the hell has been up with you?" She asked and he shrugged. He wasn't going to answer that, he didn't need her to find out what was wrong with him.

"Nothing's been up with me Jordan." She stared at him long and hard, her eyes boring into him.

"Nothing's been wrong? You've been hiding away in your room, you've been avoiding me and here you go shoving things into your desk drawers, what happened, did you fall off the wagon? Are you too much of a coward to come right out and tell me?" He winced under her cold, cutting tone.

"No, that's not it-" He started and she glared at him.

"Then what is it Garret?" He couldn't tell her, he couldn't. He wasn't going to tell her, not like this.

"I'm not drinking again, I swear." He said taking a long gulp of coffee, wishing it was something stronger, wishing that he was drinking again. She closed in on him, meeting his gaze.

"I think you're bullshitting." Her voice was cold as she spoke and he could feel it cutting him down. "Garret, I can't help you if you don't try-" He shook his head at the pleading tone in her voice.

"Jordan, I promise you-" She shook her head.

"Garret, I don't want to hear some tired promise when you're not going to follow it. " Her accusations cut him down. He was sober, he was making it, but it was her fault that she thought he wasn't making it. He was. "Garret, I can't help you if you don't want it."

She walked out, leaving him in his office feeling hopelessly alone. The disappointed tone in her voice bit straight into his soul and he frowned at the thought. He opened up the desk drawer and at the sight of the velvet box he slammed it shut forcefully, walking out the door, heading home. He needed to get outside, get some fresh air, get out of there. He needed a drink.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N-So I have a thing for this bartender. He crops up in everything I write that needs a bartender. I don't even know who he is, he's a figment of my imagination, but he's THERE whenever I need a bartender. And he tends to be somewhat omniscent. And he tends to remind me a lot of Tom Waits-only a fat Tom Waits. And yeah, I really want to smack Garret after this chapter. But he hates me enough as it is...And Fluffy-I never noticed that about my writing, thanks for pointing it out, you're right, we never really use people's names in conversations...we use them to get people's attention, and thats about it...or to emphasize a point. Although I'm guilty of starting sentences with the person who I'm talking to's name-perhaps why my friends give me weird looks?

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He made his way to the small bar in the back, enjoying the smoky atmosphere. There was a singer on stage doing a sound check for a night's performance who was doing beautiful husky blues. There was something about the atmosphere. But he wasn't really noticing that, he didn't care about the setting, he wasn't here to enjoy himself. He took a seat on one of the worn stools and waited for the bartender to arrive. "Coke or coffee?" The gruff man asked. 

"Coffee." He said without thinking, barely processing what the man had said. A cup was placed before him and he took a long gulp before realizing that it wasn't quite what he wanted. He looked up at the bartender and the large man merely grinned.

"Don't even try, I know that look bud, been in this business for twenty ears, Cola, coffee or water for you, I'm not going to be the guilty party." he smiled faintly. "Don't take it personally, I've seen a lot of guys who look just like you walk in, you all have that same look, guilty with your tail between your legs for the idea. You're not the first, you won't be the last."

He shrugged and looked down into the black liquid. "Three guesses and the first two don't count. Women, women, and women." He grinned up at the bartender for the other man's astute observation.

"I hate them. One in particular." He said, taking a long gulp. She was the one who drove him here, pushed him right to the edge. If it hadn't been for the bartender he'd be halfway through a neat scotch rather than coffee.

"I think most of the male species agrees there buddy. Hate them, but you have to love them, and you usually hate them because you love them." He grinned at the apt description of things.

"Sounds about right." The bartender looked at him.

"How long you been sober, and what'd the lady in question do to push you this far?"

"Three months. Ad the lady in question is the one who got me there-I fell for her but-"

"You're afraid of things going sour. Right. Well, let me tell you from experience, there comes a point where you can't put it off any longer and you're going to burst if you don't tell her, and it's usually wise to let her find out before then. Because if you don't, odds are that you'll spontaneously combust from trying to keep it in." He laughed. "Go out there and tell her-might as well get it over with, right?"

The bartender did have a point. He reached for his wallet but the bartender shook his head. "Leave it; it's on me, its just coffee."

'Thanks." He said, walking away.

"Good luck." The other man called as he walked back to the office, feeling considerably lighter than when he had left it the better part of an hour ago.

He headed up to the ninth floor and stepped out, striding down to his office. He opened the door to find her sitting in his chair, toying with the bracelet. He paused in the doorway. She had gone through his desk. She hadn't trusted him and went through his desk. "You weren't supposed to find that." He said simply, not moving.

"Garret-" She began, getting up as he tried to think of something to say. He walked in and found himself face to face with her, inches away. The bartender had told him to just get it over with.

He went with the option that didn't involve words. He leaned his head in and met her lips gently. It was soft and restrained, no matter how much more he wanted, he wasn't going to let it show. She stood there stunned for a minute but as soon as he began to feel her arms wrap around him he pulled back. "I think maybe you should leave." He said quietly and she nodded before walking to the door.

"Garret-I'm sorry for doubting you." She whispered before walking across the hall to her own office, leaving him alone. He collapsed behind his desk; he quite possibly had just made the worst mistake of his life.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N Everyone together on three-One, two three-AWWEEEEE. Right. Told you it was fluffy. This is the end of it, considerably shorter than Long Slow Burn, but hey, I've got NaNo to work on...To all of you who reviewed, Thanks! I really appricate it! and be prepared Nov. 30'th to see something that you've never seen before...shame that's the end of the rareathon, it's done. But the only two to have seen it are my beta and myself so far...but don't expect anything else from me, I have my NaNo to work on, most you'll get is a drabble when Bill Dung is annoying me.

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He sat behind his desk head in his hands. He had wanted to drink before, but now it was even worse, now he could feel his body screaming at him to sink into that comfortably numb state. He had just made the worst mistake of his life, he had just kissed her, done something he couldn't back away from. 

He could have done something with the bracelet that didn't involve what he had, he could have explained away the bracelet, come up with something good to say. But instead he had decided to sink himself by kissing her, ruining any chance of possibly saving himself. He had done the stupidest thing he could have done.

He looked up for what had to be the umpteenth time looking through the window at her. She was sitting behind her desk, hair pulled up into a messy bun at the back of her neck, a pencil stuck through it. She as working intently on her backlog of paperwork, tapping her fingers along to whatever tune she was listening to, fully engrossed in her work. She looked-he tried to find a word to describe how she looked and couldn't.

He had gone and screwed things over for him for the rest of his life. She was the one he was leaning on, and he just chased her away for good, there was no way that she'd want to help him now, not a lecherous old man who had out of nowhere kissed her. He could still taste her on his lips; still feel the way that her body just seemed to fit against his.

He looked back down at the file in front of him, trying to focus, trying to make sure that everything was in order. He gave up and just signed his name to it. Bug followed procedure, there was no reason to go through and check for any abnormalities. He picked up the next one and flipped through it, ignoring most of it.

He had really done the worst thing possible. He looked up again to meet her eyes. He held the gaze for all of a second before looking back down at the next file on the stack. He didn't know why he had done it, why he had kissed her. It was bad enough that he had come to the realization that he loved her; he didn't need to act on it on top of things.

He got up; he couldn't stand this, looking up at her every other minute. There was a pileup of routine insurance company autopsies to do; he might as well get started on them. It didn't take him long to change into his scrubs before heading over to Autopsy to make at least a small dent in the caseload.

He had almost finished the first body when she walked in, and he tried to avoid looking at her. "Hey." She said quietly and he looked up. She was wearing the bracelet. And it looked stunning on her.

"Hey." He replied, keeping his eye down on the body, not wanting to look up at her as she grabbed another one of the bodies.

"Why do insurance people require autopsies?" She asked and he grinned.

"Because they're insurance people, they're not happy unless they're making everyone else in the world unhappy." She laughed. It felt so right, so natural. He could almost forget what he had done. Almost.

"The only time they'll ever be happy is if everyone on the planet would come down with something that would cause them to pay through the nose for premiums because of a preexisting condition." He laughed.

They lapsed into an easy silence. He was focusing on his case, focusing on just another little old man that died of natural death. He was trying to ignore her, but every time he looked up she was there, and he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her again. "That's interesting." She said after a long time and he looked up.

"What?" He asked, starting to stitch the old man with a bad heart back up.

"That must have been a painful death." He walked over to look down at the body, a young man who had died.

"Ow." Was all he could say, reaching in to look at the damaged tissue at the same time that she did. Their hands met and he couldn't decide whether or not to grab it or pull away. He wound up backing his hand up to look at the damage that had been done from the boy's collarbone breaking and puncturing his heart.

"Garret-" She began, pulling her hand out of the body and reaching for a suture kit. It was pretty obvious why the man had died and that it was an accident.

"Hmm?" He questioned, pulling off his gloves.

"We need to talk." She said after a long pause to stitch the body before walking along with him to his office, sitting on his couch.

"Jorda-" He began. He didn't want to talk about this. "Look it was-"

"It was you didn't give me a chance to say what I thought." She said, resting her head on his shoulder. He was torn between grinning and frowning. She couldn't hate him, but that didn't mean he wasn't getting the "We're best as friends" talk.

"Jordan, look, it was just me, well-" He struggled to find the words to tell her something anything. He had opened his mouth again but didn't get to speak as soft lips met his. He looked at her, surprised, before closing his eyes and enjoying the kiss. It was soft and sweet and languid.

He looked at her as they broke it. "Garret, you mean more than anything to me, I mean that." He pulled her close.

"Jordan, I've already screwed over every other relationship I've had, Maggie, Lily, Rene, I'm the worst at this, I don't want to-" She kissed him again.

"You haven't screwed up every one, and you're not going to screw up this one. I'm not going to let you." This time he was the one to kiss her, all thoughts of wanting to drink himself into a stupor fading away. He had her, and that was the only thing that he needed.


End file.
